Hetty and Lottie were both intrigued. “Who is Simeon?” Hetty quickly asked before the subject was changed.
“He’s a patti…um...a French pastry chef,” said Tommy, “and he’s running the café at Pentrillick House for the Wonderland.”
“Oh, a patissier,” said Hetty, “how lovely. We must certainly pay him a visit.”
“How come they’ve got in a French chap?” Lottie asked.
“The café closes during the winter months between November the first and the end of February,” said Bernie, “but the Wonderland Committee thought food should be on offer and so they asked Tristan if they could use the café. He agreed and the committee decided rather than do the same thing every year to invite in different nationalities to ring the changes. Last year we had an Indian chap called Sai and his curries were to die for.”
Lottie sighed. “We chose the right year to come then. I’m not one for spicy food so the pastries will suit me fine.”
“You’re such an old stick-in-the-mud, Lottie. Curries are gorgeous. I love them.”
Lottie ignored her sister. “So, are there any other strangers at the Wonderland or are the rest locals?”
“About fifty fifty,” said Tommy, “There are quite a few folks with the fairground attractions and several others with stalls who seem to go around the country from one event to another. They seem a nice lot anyway, especially Psychic Sid. In fact the whole Wonderland thing has a lovely atmosphere and so far is better attended than last year.”
Chapter Two
Sunday dawned bright and sunny but with a cold wind blowing. Lottie woke first and thought about going to church but decided against as there was still much to be done to get the house in some sort of order. Only the kitchen and the bathroom could be described as neat and tidy. The rest of the house was still littered with boxes and bulging black bin liners which needed to be unpacked. It was decided therefore when Hetty arose that each would concentrate on their own bedroom thus ensuring the bin liners would be emptied, as most contained items of clothing and bed linen.
By lunch time both front bedrooms were neat, clean and tidy.
“What now?” Hetty asked, as they sat down at the kitchen table with well-earned cups of coffee. “Shall we go to the pub for a roast or shall we go to the Wonderland thing?”
Lottie sighed. “I’d like to do both but I don’t think I have the energy. What do you think?”
“I agree with you but I am feeling hungry so I think the pub has the greatest appeal. I mean, we can only have a roast on a Sunday whereas we can go to the Wonderland any day bar Tuesday. On the other hand it’s nice and sunny today which is ideal for being outdoors.”
“In that case we’ll go to the pub and we’ll walk there and back to get some fresh air. That way you’ll be able to have a glass or two of wine as well. We’d have to take the car if we went to Pentrillick House because it’s too far to walk. Too far for us anyway when feeling weary.”
“That’s settled then and we’ll take Albert too. It’s time he got to know his new homeland.”
Albert sat up and crossed to the table when he heard mention of his name.
“Poor old thing, we’ve neglected you haven’t we?” Hetty said, bending down to stroke the back of his soft, warm head, “But I promise once we’re straight we’ll take you for lots and lots of walks.”
After the sisters had locked up the cottage they crossed the road and paused by a five bar gate to take in the view over the field and down towards the coast and the village.
“I still can’t believe we’re here,” said Hetty, pulling on Albert’s lead to stop him trying to run away with her. “And this view, well, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it.”
Lottie smiled. “Me neither and it’s all just as we imagined it. You even have a dog. Isn’t it funny the way things work out in life?”
“Yes, it certainly is and right now I think we have much to be grateful for.”
Albert barked as though to endorse Hetty’s sentiments.
At the end of Blackberry Way they turned into Long Lane which ran sharply downhill. The hedgerows were less dense than in the summer; blackberry brambles bore only a few withered leaves and there were no flowers to add a dash of colour.
Despite the fact that the weather was good they met no-one along the lane and when they reached the bottom of the hill which came out opposite the pub, they observed that the main street which ran through the village was devoid of traffic.
The Crown and Anchor as on the previous evening was busy with diners and drinkers and the smell of Sunday dinner hung in the air. The tables nearest to the fire were already taken and so the sisters sat at the far end of the bar near to a piano which stood in a dimly lit corner beside a Christmas tree part-hidden beneath coloured lights, baubles and strands of silver tinsel. Before they ordered their food they both had a small glass of wine and sat back to soak up the atmosphere. Albert, alarmed by the many pairs of feet, shuffled underneath the table and took a nap.
Every time the front door opened, Hetty and Lottie turned their heads, eager to see if they knew whosoever emerged through the door and to their amusement, shortly after their arrival, Vince Royale who owned a garage on the outskirts of the village, walked in.
Hetty giggled like a school girl. “I swear, Lottie, that Vince looks even more like a young Prince Charles every time I see him.”
However, when he unzipped his jacket they were both surprised by his choice of clothing. For he wore a bright green, thick woollen knitted jumper with the face of a reindeer on the front and a large red bobble for as its nose. Alison, it seemed also shared their mirth for she laughed helplessly.
“I really thought you were joking, Vince,” she said, reaching across the bar to flick the overlarge nose, “but it’s good to see you’ve adopted a little Christmas spirit albeit the least subtle I’m sure of all the knitwear that Nancy and Neil had on offer.”
Vince removed his jacket and did a quick twirl so that all might see the latest addition to his wardrobe.
When the chuckling died down he said, “Actually, I had to buy it and wear it because Bernie bet fifty quid that I wouldn’t. I’m hoping he’ll be in this lunchtime so I can see him put his money in the Roof Fund box.”
In the afternoon the sisters, feeling sleepy after a huge lunch and two glasses each of wine, fell asleep by the fire in the sitting room. When they woke up it was half past three.
“Shall we go for a walk?” Lottie asked, seeing the sun was still shining. “Not far, perhaps just through the village and back.”
“Okay, but can we have a cup of tea first?”
Lottie shook her head. “Better not as it’ll be dark in less than two hours. Let’s leave it until we get back.”
The main street of the village was surprisingly quiet even for a Sunday in December. No-one was standing in the pub car park nor outside in the smoking shelter. On both sides of the road, cars were parked close to each other for, being a Sunday, most people were at home. The post office was closed and the fish and chip shop too until four thirty. No-one waited at the bus stop for a bus and Chloe’s Café was closed for the winter. However, as they approached the church they saw confetti blowing around the lichgate in the light breeze.
“Must have been a wedding recently,” said Lottie, reaching inside the gate and picking up a few pieces of the colourful tissue. “How romantic to marry in the winter. It reminds me of Mum and Dad. Mum often told us when we were kids how a few flakes of snow fell when they came out of the church on their wedding day.”
“But that was January,” said Hetty.
“Yes, but same thing. This confetti is fresh too so I think whoever got married did so yesterday.”
As they walked round the bend, Lottie pointed to a car parked outside Sea View Cottage, the holiday let in which they had stayed during the summer.
“Probably someone down for Christmas,” said Hetty, “and very nice too.”
“It’s a bit early to b
e here for Christmas, I would have thought. I mean, most people don’t finish work until a few days before.”
“Yes, I suppose so, although it might be someone who is retired.”
Outside the antique shop they stopped and looked in the window to see what their next door neighbours whom they had yet to meet, sold.
“Pricey,” said Hetty.
“Hmm, better to go to car boot sales and charity shops.”
Next door was a hairdresser. Both sisters peered in through the window. “Looks nice and clean,” said Hetty, “so I shall definitely have my hair done here when it next needs cutting.”
“Me too. We must support small businesses especially here in the village.”
Finally they reached the Pentrillick Hotel which said ‘vacancies’ on the bottom of its large name board.
“Let’s go back now,” said Hetty, “there are no more shops after the hotel and I’m longing for a cup of tea.”
As they approached Primrose Cottage it was getting dark but so as not to have wasted the entire day, after cups of tea, they set to and tackled the dining room where boxes were stacked on and around the drop-leaf table which until a few days earlier had taken pride of place in Lottie’s former home.
Chapter Three
On Monday morning, Hetty and Lottie were up bright and early for they had decided the previous day that they must go to the charity shop in the morning to see Maisie and Daisy, two ladies with whom they had made friends while on holiday during the summer.
As Lottie pulled back the living room curtains she saw a lady of a similar age to herself walking briskly along the lane in the front of the cottage. She turned to Hetty who was switching on the television to watch the news. “There’s a woman walking by who I’ve seen a couple of times now. I wonder who she is.”
Hetty joined her sister at the window just in time to see the stranger disappear from view. “No idea, but I suppose she might live up here somewhere. I mean, there are several houses along here that we don’t know anything about yet and we’ve not even met or seen anything of our next door neighbours at Hillside.”
“Yes, I expect you’re right. We’ll no doubt find out in time.”
They left for the charity shop just after ten and took Albert with them on his lead. As Hetty locked the door, Lottie saw on the roof of their neighbour’s house, Hillside, two young men kneeling on the roof fixing new slates onto the wooden battens.
“I bet it’s chilly up there,” she said, buttoning up her coat, “draughty too. Rather them than me.”
“They’re young,” said Hetty, dropping the house key into her pocket, “I don’t think young people feel the cold like we do.”
“No, I suppose not although I well remember being cold when we were young.”
“But that was in the Midlands,” said Hetty, “The winters are colder up there.”
As they approached the charity shop, the woman who had walked past their cottage earlier in the day, came out. She nodded her head and said, “Good morning,” before walking off briskly through the village clutching a carrier bag.
Inside the charity shop, Hetty and Lottie were disappointed to find that Daisy and Maisie were not working as it was their Monday off and it was their new neighbour, Tommy Thomas who was behind the counter sticking price tickets on pieces of bric-a-brac.
“Well, hello,” he said, as they stepped over the threshold, “have you settled in yet?”
“I think so,” said Hetty, pausing in the doorway, “Is it alright if I bring Albert in here?”
Tommy nodded his head, “Yeah, that’s fine as long as he’s well behaved. I often bring Fagan with me now that Mum’s not at home to keep him company but this morning he didn’t want to come out.”
“Oh, Albert is very well behaved,” said Hetty, with enthusiasm, “aren’t you, my sweetheart?”
“I suppose you expected Maisie and Daisy to be here,” said Tommy.
Hetty nodded. “Well, yes, we were hoping they would be. Not that we mind seeing you,” she hastily added.
“And we really only popped in for a chat and to say hello anyway,” said Lottie, “although I daresay there are a few bits and pieces amongst your stock that we could do with.”
“A chat and to find out the latest gossip,” said Tommy, with a chuckle, “You know where to come. Not that there’s been much to gossip about lately, although to be fair folks have been very cautious about what they say to me since Mum went. I suppose they don’t want to be seen as indelicate.”
“Yes that’s understandable,” Lottie agreed. “I found the same when my husband died.”
“Out of curiosity, who was the lady who was leaving the shop as we arrived? Hetty asked, “I only wonder because we saw her walking past our cottage this morning,”
“Ah, that’s Miss Vickery. She lives up Blackberry Way in the very last house.”
“The one hidden behind an extremely tall privet hedge?” Lottie asked.
“That’s the one. It’s called Meadowsweet. You’ll probably see her quite often as she’s always out walking. In fact she walks for miles, doesn’t drive and I’ve never seen her on a bus.”
“Hmm, that must be why she’s so slim,” said Hetty, a little envious.
“What’s her Christian name?” Lottie asked.
“Katherine, but those who dare call her by her Christian name know her as Kitty,” said Tommy, with a chuckle.
“Dare,” repeated Hetty, somewhat bewildered.
“She’s very old school,” said Tommy, “brought up strictly and to address her elders by their titles and for that reason she expects everyone to address her likewise.”
Hetty frowned. “How old is she? I only ask so we know whether or not we must call her Miss Vickery or whether we’ll be permitted to call her Kitty.”
“Ah, that’s a tricky one. I know she’s in her sixties but that’s about all. Best to ask Maisie or Daisy. They’ve known her all their lives, you see, as they all went to the village school here many moons ago.”
The sisters went home for lunch after purchasing a vase and a brass coal scuttle. When they arrived back they found the postman had been and there were five envelopes on the doormat.
“How exciting,” said Lottie, picking up the post. “I suppose they’ll be Christmas cards and so will brighten up the mantelpiece nicely.”
However, as she looked at the last envelope her face dropped. “Oh, I’m not so sure about this one as it’ll no doubt be my provisional driving licence.”
“Excellent,” said Hetty, standing the coal scuttle by the fireplace, “I’ll sort out the insurance later and then you can have your first driving lesson tomorrow.”
“Well I’m not really sure it’s a good idea having you teach me to drive. I mean, I know you’re very good and all that but your car doesn’t have duel control and so it might not be safe.”
“No, you’ll be perfectly alright, Lottie. We’ll start off by driving up and down Blackberry Way so there’s little or no chance of meeting any traffic. I’m pretty sure you’ll get the hang of it in no time and as with everything, practise makes perfect.”
“If you say so but I don’t want to damage your car reversing and stuff like that.”
Lottie opened the buff coloured envelope half hoping the DVLA had forgotten to enclose the licence. She scowled when she saw the picture of herself. “Ugh, I look hideous. If only they’d permit us to smile on things like this but I know they can’t for mathematical identification reasons or something technical like that.”
Hetty looked over her shoulder. “Hmm, but you don’t look any worse than I do on mine. I really think we ought to dye your hair though. It’d take years off you. Anyway, pop it in your purse for safe keeping. I can’t wait to teach you to drive.”
“I think you might regret ever having offered as I’m sure I’ll be rubbish.”
“Of course you won’t. Besides, you’re a level-headed lady, Lottie Burton and I believe that you’ll make an excellent driver. Anyway, I’ll
only teach you the basics for a week or two and then you must have proper lessons after Christmas to get you ready for your test. I reckon you’ll be a confident driver by the summer.”
They left for Pentrillick House just before four and on arriving parked in the car park. Excited to be back in the grounds of the lovely old house, they made their way across a gravelled area where fairground amusements were positioned at the top of the extensive lawns. Gentle music drifted from the speakers of a kiddie’s roundabout, next to swing boats and a coconut shy. Further along, a bouncy castle shuddered with the movement of small feet alongside a stall tempting passers-by to ‘hook the duck’. And at the end of the row, a machine to ‘test your strength’ sat in the shadow of the cone-shaped tower of a helter-skelter.
Once past the amusements, German style, open-fronted wooden huts provided selling space for retailers, each situated on either side of the avenue of trees bordering a track which ran down towards the lake. From the trees, strings of coloured illuminations were just beginning to glow in the fading light of day. While in the air, the pleasant smell of burning pine wood rose from glowing braziers behind barriers to prevent children from burning their fingers.
“That’s a good idea,” said Lottie, “somewhere to warm our hands.”
“Talking of keeping warm, we could buy one of those,” said Hetty, pointing to a stall where Christmas jumpers and other knitted items were for sale.
“That must be where Vince bought his. Shall we get one?”
Hetty thought for a moment. “I think not. I mean they’re not very flattering so might be alright for you or someone skinny like Miss Vickery, but they’d make me look even fatter than I already am.”
“You’re not fat, Het.”
“No, but I’m not skinny either and I could do with losing a pound or two.”
“I’m a bit confused, Het. I mean, you wear leggings and jumpers most of the time so I would have thought one of those Christmas ones would have been right up your street. Although I must admit they are a little garish.”
A Pasty In A Pear Tree Page 2